


Get Me Going

by Arrestzelle



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Body Worship, F/M, Flirting, Groping, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Mutter Era, Nudity, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 08:16:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16082135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrestzelle/pseuds/Arrestzelle
Summary: You stop by Richard's apartment in NYC to hook up. Richard has always been an eager, passionate lover.





	Get Me Going

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fourth place prize fic for @sapphirewolf100 on Tumblr, for my giveaway! Hope you like it, Neigh ♡

Snow descends in easy drifts upon the buildings of New York City, the neighborhoods, the towering skyscrapers, the trees, the roads, the sidewalks, covering it all in a blanket of striking white. Out beyond the open door of the apartment balcony, Richard watches it descend lazily in warm droplets of white. The thick clouds hang above, shrouding the city in darkness, blocking the moonlight from piercing the sky. The smoke from his cigarette disappears into the night air when he exhales it in a rush. He takes a long drag from the cigarette, shoulder propped against the open door, his hair left without gel, falling naturally against his forehead and the side of his face. His nails are painted silver, but chipping.

“You’re letting all the warmth out, you know,” you call without force, from where you lounge on Richard’s sectional, flipping through some book you found on the coffee table—it’s in German, so the only enjoyment you gain from it is admiring the written language without quite understanding it. You set it back on the table, hook an arm around the back of the couch to lift yourself up and watch Richard. He twists on his heel to look back at you with an arched brow.

“Would you rather I fill the place with smoke?” he remarks, before putting his nearly-spent cigarette out in the ashtray he held in his other hand. Obediently, always a pleaser, Richard sets down the ashtray on a nearby shelf and then swings the balcony door shut.

“While I think your habit is sexy,” you begin to say as Richard tiredly paces out to round the sectional, “I think you contributed to your upcoming cancer enough. Come join me.”

Richard rolls his eyes, a faint smile pulling at his lips. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of black sweatpants that look good on his legs. His hip bones are prominent above the waistband—the sweatpants hang a bit too low around his hips. You can see the V of his hips and it’s unfair. He hasn’t waxed in a while; his belly hair is coming back, decorating his abs nicely. You stare, and he notices.

“I can keep you warm, babe,” he teases, taking a smooth seat beside you on the sectional. You blush, your tongue caught by your abrupt shyness—this happens whenever he starts flirting. He knows this, and always pushes your buttons because of it. He takes your hand in his, and you immediately feel the slight roughness of his fingers from the recent tour. Knowing him, he’ll be using moisturizer to make them soft again. Leaning in, he kisses your hand, your knuckles, and it has your face burning.

“Well, you were successful,” you wryly mumble, considering you’re now burning up. It has him huffing a laugh and looking at you with a warm smile. Your heart is racing at this point, stomach twisting with both nervousness and a desperation to feel more of his touch. He leans in to kiss you on the cheek—you make a slight flustered noise, and it has him chuckling. Then he angles his head and closes the distance to gently kiss your lips.

You feel a hand rest on your thigh, gripping you gently through the fabric of your black jeans. It has you tensing up. He kisses you slowly and tenderly, a deep overlapping of his lips that you try to reciprocate as best you can. It makes for a passionate kiss that has not just your face burning up; your belly swims with a heat and it makes you more responsive. You raise a hand to shyly cup it around his cheek, feeling the scratch of developing stubble and the shape of his strong jaw. He hums against your mouth—another burst of heat in your belly follows. He turns you on so easily. With a firm departing purse of his lips against yours, Richard pulls back just enough to search in your eyes. He speaks lowly, in a murmur that only contributes to your flustered state.

“You taste like coffee, y’know. Vanilla.”

You figure explaining you went to Starbucks before coming over to see him would kill the mood. So you just smile at him weakly and opt to say while searching in his beautiful green eyes, your hand drifting down from his jaw to rest on his muscular chest, “And you taste like Richard.”

That has him snorting.

“I sure hope I do.”

He abruptly shifts closer, bringing one hand up to tenderly cradle your cheek. You suck in a breath, look at him with wide, lovestruck eyes. He leans in and kisses you twice more in firm pecks against your lips, and then kisses your cheek, before he begins to say lowly, searching in your eyes, “Let me…”

Richard trails off, seemingly unsure on what to decide on; you figure there is a lot he wants you to let him do. You just bite your lip and say quietly, “Whatever you want. I want you, in whatever way.”

“That’s my girl,” he purrs, seemingly pleased with your response, a grin curling at his lips. An arrow may have just driven through your heart, because you’re speechless with both your arousal, and your love for him. He gently kisses you once more, and you blindly return it, before he draws back and leans away to watch himself take hold of your cowl neck sweater. He pulls it off of you with your willingness, and then reaches down to begin undoing your jeans. Meanwhile, watching him, you see him admiring your newly exposed partial nudity. Your black bra maintains the decency of your breasts, but you know that won’t last much longer.

He gets your jeans open, exposing the navy blue fabric of your panties, and the small bow that sits at the waistband. He impatiently hooks his manicured fingers into the waistband of your black jeans. You lean back to prop up on an elbow, raising your hips for him to begin working them down your legs. He gets them off of you, tossing them onto the floor. You move to sit up again, but Richard is quick to lean over you and keep you laying against the couch with one hand placed against your midsection. You look up at him with a flushed face, and allow it. Richard’s eyes swim down over your body, admiring the beauty of you, the way it calls for his touch.

“You’re so precious,” he murmurs, his hands running along the dip and rise of your hips, the softness of your sides and stomach, which he squeezes in his hands, an appreciative touch that has you biting your lip. You’re a little shy about this, but you’re enjoying it most of all. He seems so genuinely attracted to your body and you love it. He gropes your breasts through your bra as he leans in over you to kiss your forehead.

“You’re perfect,” Richard says softly. You feel like you’re about to combust. You let out a shuddering breath and say shyly, “Are you trying to kill me, Richard?”

Richard chuckles and runs his strong hands around your ribcage to confidently unhook your bra, without commenting on your quip. You let him slip it off of you, letting your heavy breasts rest against your ribcage, a lovely sight if judging by Richard’s staring. He hums and ducks his head to kiss over them lovingly, before briefly sucking one of your nipples into his mouth. You gasp. His hand raises to cup your other breast, thumb sweeping up and over your hard nipple. He bites your nipple gently, rolling it between his teeth, his tongue wet and overwhelmingly warm against it. It’s building the overwhelming heat in your belly.

“Richard,” you whine, embarrassed. He nips you once more, which has you shuddering, and then he’s kissing you twice more over your chest, before rising to kiss your lips. You bring a hand up to curl it into his hair, the short locks soft against your fingers. His lips are wet and warm from the licking and sucking. He’s breathing a little heavily into the kiss, and it’s incredibly hot. Your lips move together in a heated kiss, until Richard gets seemingly impatient and leans away again.

“I want to eat out your pussy,” he says in an accent made thicker by his arousal, hooking his fingers into your panties. He pauses, looks up at you with hopeful green eyes and a raised eyebrow. Waiting for consent. You bite your lip and nod. God, he’s so fucking sexy. Especially when he takes it step by step, makes sure you’re comfortable and he’s moving at an acceptable speed. Richard drops his gaze to watch himself begin to ease down your dark blue panties. You lift your hips for him to do so; he gets them off of you quickly. You press one hand to your burning face, flustered and speechless.

You watch silently, burning up, as Richard moves to stand up, taking a moment to step out of his sweatpants, followed by his black briefs. His hard cock springs up, now released from its restricting confines. His nude, muscular body standing before you is quite a sight to behold. He’s so damn perfect.

Inevitably, your gaze fixates on his flushed cock. Like the rest of him, it’s flawlessly pretty. You want to do so much to it, and to him, but Richard moves first. He leans over to gently, but firmly, pull your legs apart, his hands gripping your thighs. You’re practically on fire at this point. You’re so fucking wet, you can _feel_ the slickness between your legs. Richard drives you crazy.

“What was it that the Japanese say? Before they eat?” Richard begins as he moves into position, tugging your body further down on the couch with a hold on your hips, while he moves to kneel on the carpet. He looks up at you, expecting an answer. Your flustered, hazy state of mind makes it hard to think. You have to drag yourself out of your distracting arousal to produce a breathlessly spoken, confused, “I-Itadaki-something?”

The irrelevance of that question considering he’s _German_ nearly makes you laugh, but you’re distracted by Richard saying with amusement, “That’s it.”

And then he’s leaning in, lowering his head in-between your thighs, hands gripping your hips to keep you still.

**Author's Note:**

> babypaulchen.tumblr.com


End file.
